They Framed the CEO for a Sex Scandal,So I Burned the Company Down and Came Back Richer

My biggest client and I had planned a mixer—a simple networking event. But the Gen-Z intern who'd just joined two months ago wrinkled her nose like I'd suggested something obscene.

"Mr. Hughes, are you seriously asking us to be escorts?"

I laughed, assuming she'd misunderstood. "The mixer's at our office. Both sides get to know each other, share some food, chat a bit. It'll make finalizing the contract after New Year's much smoother."

But Arlene Lambert's voice pitched higher, carrying across the open floor. "Everyone, look at this! The boss wants us to entertain clients."

The faces around me shifted. Smiles curdled. Eyes darted away.

I fixed her with a hard stare. "If you don't want to attend, take the day off."

I thought that would be the end of it.

I was wrong.

After hours, Arlene cornered me in my office doorway, a cluster of employees materializing behind her like she'd summoned them.

"We won't sell our bodies, Mr. Hughes."

The words landed like a slap.

"Cancel the mixer," she continued, chin lifted, "or I'll report you for organizing prostitution."

The others had already made up their minds. By the next morning, the story was everywhere—twisted beyond recognition, my name dragged through every platform. The online mob came for me with pitchforks. Clients pulled out. Partners went silent.

I had no choice. I dissolved the company.

And then, one by one, they came crawling back, begging me to save them.

1.

But that comes later.

Let me start from the beginning.

Arlene Lambert stood in my doorway, arms crossed, announcing to anyone within earshot that I wanted my employees to be escorts.

My patience snapped. "Arlene, what the hell are you talking about?"

She smirked, savoring the moment. "I recorded your little speech in the meeting. You asked employees to sell themselves to please clients. That's disgusting."

I didn't dignify that with a response. Instead, I looked past her to the people hovering behind—people I'd trusted, people I'd built this company with.

"Craig. Gertrude. Jonathan." I pointed at each of them. "You're really going along with this circus?"

Craig Norris, my technical director since day one, let out a bitter laugh. "She's not wrong, Mr. Hughes. You've got some nerve. What, the contract fell through so now you need us to charm the client into signing?"

Before I could answer, Gertrude Lawrence—finance manager, supposedly level-headed—shrieked like I'd suggested she commit a felony. "I have a boyfriend! I handle the books, not client relations. You can't force me to sleep with anyone!"

I stared at her, genuinely speechless.

Jonathan James, the business manager who'd always been a little too smooth, flashed his salesman's grin. "Boss, the contract didn't go through, did it?"

He wasn't wrong—technically. The contract wasn't signed yet. Bartholomew Walker's assistant, who managed the company seal, had gone on early maternity leave. Mr. Walker himself had assured me we'd finalize everything right after the holiday.

I'd worked with Bartholomew for years. He was good for his word, generous in his dealings. I had no reason to doubt him.

But this particular contract involved multiple partners on his side—over a dozen moving parts, layers of complexity that required face-to-face coordination before anything could be locked down.

"The contract isn't signed yet," I admitted, keeping my voice steady, "but Mr. Walker already gave his word. There won't be any issues."

"This mixer is about warming up to the key phases of the deal. Getting everyone aligned. Not entertaining anyone."

Arlene's smirk widened. "See? I told you. The contract's dead in the water."

"And from what I hear," she added, twisting the knife, "everyone on the client side is in their forties or fifties. We're young. Why should we waste ourselves on them?"

Craig muttered, just loud enough for everyone to hear, "I have a girlfriend. I'm not selling my soul for this company."

The women behind him nodded in unison. "We're not going to be escorts."

"It's not escorting!" My voice rose despite myself. "If it turns out to be anything like that, you can walk out immediately!"

But no matter how I explained, Arlene kept spinning, kept poisoning. No one was listening anymore.

"Walk out? By the time we realize what's happening, it'll be too late."

"What if they lock the doors? How are we supposed to leave then?"

"I've seen shady bosses before, but never one as ruthless as you, Mr. Hughes. Willing to do anything to close a deal."

Arlene's eyes glittered with something calculating. "Although... we could be persuaded to attend. If—"

I turned to Craig, Gertrude, Jonathan—and finally saw it.

The greed. Naked and undisguised.

They didn't misunderstand me at all.

They knew exactly what the mixer was.

This was leverage.